


Under-the-Table Activities

by tea_petty



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fingerfucking, Friends to Lovers, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28407498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: Yao's friend has just been through a brutal break up and needs his comfort.
Relationships: China (Hetalia)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Under-the-Table Activities

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr; tea-pettiest

The music thumped in a way that made Yao feel the beat in his chest and ribs, rattling around like dice. 

He was nursing a shot at a table in the back, the surface sticky under his arm. He’d been holding the shot for a few minutes now and the wait staff was milling about like sharks in infested waters, waiting for him to order again, and hopefully lube up his reach for his wallet.

Yao wasn’t there for himself though, he was waiting for someone. 

He checked his phone; she’d texted him about fifteen minutes ago, which meant she’d be here any minute. He’d best take his damn shot and order another round, this time, including her.

He knocked it back, his face screwing up at the bitter taste. 

Christ, in all his years, people still hadn’t made hard liquor taste much better. 

Heat licked at the back of his throat and he signaled the waiter.

The club was starting to fill with people; Yao would have to watch the door a little closer to make sure he didn’t miss her. Tonight, they were drinking for sport, not play; the first one to make her forget her ex, won.

The waiter, a young man –- no older than twenty-two -– though with a face that held the practiced impassiveness of someone who was seasoned in catering to the wealthy and drunk, brought two more shots.

Yao was switching between watching the door and tracing the rim of the little glasses, wondering if he had time to knock one more back when he spotted her. He stood and raised his hand so she wouldn’t miss him, trying to ignore the twinge in his chest when she turned and noticed him, her face lighting up. At first blush she seemed fine; she smiled when she saw him and he thought he was melting until he got a better look of her up close.

The sultry, red lighting in the club had done a good job of hiding the puffiness of her eyes and the red at her nose. She must've fixed her makeup her mascara hadn’t had the chance to betray her yet. 

His skin felt electric and a sweat sprung at his skin beneath his white, collared shirt, though he didn’t feel warm in the slightest.

“You made it,” Yao gave a small smile and stepped out from the booth to greet her.

“Of course, I did. _I’m_ the one who invited _you_ out.”

She tried to return his smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I know, I just…would’ve understood given the circumstances if you wanted to-“

“Stay home and cry?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I was going to say ‘raincheck’.”

A beat of silence fell between them.

“No,” she finally said. “If there was ever a night I needed to drink, it’s tonight.”

Truthfully, staying home for a cry would’ve been just as good. 

Yao would’ve been just as punctual if that had been their night instead, but this was her picking her poison.

“Then, shall we?” 

He offered her a hand to help her up into the booth. When she accepted, her grasp singed a phantom shadow where she’d touched. He’d feel that for the rest of the night.

Her eyes fell on the shot he’d already ordered.

“You prepared, I see.”

Yao didn’t know what to say to this; was it too much? 

“I did.”

She laughed a snuffly sound.

“Good man.” 

Yao watched as she raised her glass for a toast, following her lead. The toast itself brought an itching heat to his face he hoped he would be able to excuse for inebriation.

“To good men then – hopefully I find one,” she grimaced at the end of this before taking the shot.

Yao followed again, drowning his urge to shake her and say; _You_ have _found one, he’s right_ here--!

She took her liquor with a slight twitch of her brow but an otherwise straight face.

With their glasses empty again, Yao signaled the waiter, who came with seamless timing to replace their drinks.

“So,” she said, taking a glass in her hand and studying it. “Do you want to know what happened?”

“Do you want to tell me?”

She laughed again, a harsher sound this time.

“Not really, but I don’t suppose it can do any harm. I mean, it’s the oldest story in the book.” She lolled her gaze towards him, grinning sharkishly. “The asshole cheated on me.”

It was the answer Yao had expected; it was as she said, the oldest story in the book. Perhaps, maybe, the only story older than he was.

“Asshole,” Yao echoed, shaking his head. 

“That’s what I’m saying.”

She took the shot, and this time, her face screwed up. Yao wondered if maybe they should start slowing down already. It had only been two so far, but he doubted she could hold her liquor as well as he could hold his. Humans were a bit of a gamble with respect to this, so better to err on the side of caution.

“Another round?”

Yao was about to ask her if she was sure, but she’d already caught the waiter’s eye and signaled to him. More shots came, pungent with more tequila to burn their throats with.

She knocked it back and then she set the glass down, her hands coming up to cradle her chin. She pinched her eyes shut for a few moments as if trying to get her bearings, her train of thought struggling to motor through the wave of tequila she'd just sent its way. 

“Yao,” she said finally, her voice hoarse and small.

“Yes? What is it?”

One of her hands came down from her face to rest at the table, palm down, a few inches from his. It edged towards his but didn’t touch him. Yao, maybe a little bit enabled by the tequila, reached for her hand fully and took it in his own. 

They’d never done this before.

When she opened her eyes to look at him, they looked like they were swimming with tears.

“He pulled away from me.”

Yao watched as her face drew in a pained look.

“He pulled away and told me he wanted to stop…”

“To stop?”

She flushed and brought a hand up to clam up across her eyes. Yao thought she looked embarrassed.

“To stop, like, sleeping with me and stuff. He said he had to focus on work. I let him pull away because of that and then he-“ 

She shook her head as her voice broke off.

Annoyance flared in Yao; what a cheap excuse. Tons of people worked and still found time to spend with the people they cared about. He obviously had enough time to _cheat_.

“It wasn’t an intimacy thing or a work thing at all – it was a _me_ thing and that fucking sucks.”

The punchiness of ‘fucking’ was lost as her voice trembled near the end of the sentence.

He wasn’t used to seeing her like this. Not defeated and certainly not bearing the blame for a failed relationship when her partner had been the one to betray it. His head felt light, airy like he was floating a thousand miles above ground, looking down at her. 

Even from that high up, she was bright enough to catch his eye, even with the rest of the mess faded away. Yao couldn’t believe it.

“No, you can’t think that,” he said, his brow furrowing. “You’re great. You’re-“ he swallowed a little awkwardly, the burn of tequila rising in his throat again. “Perfect.”

Her body perked up enough for her to raise another hand to the waiter – another round – before she slumped forwards, leaning heavily on the table. 

The waiter came by again to unload two small glasses before them.

“You can just keep them coming.”

When the waiter left, she brought the glass to her lips and made a face. 

Her throat and nose were already filled with the burning scent of the alcohol but what she was searching for right now, went deeper than something as trivial as taste. She was searching for such mythical solace that many men had tried and failed to find it at the bottom of the bottle.

Yao would’ve saved her the trouble and stopped her then and there, had he something in its place to offer her.

The way her red eyes studied the shot almost scared him a little. 

A few pieces of hair fell from its perch behind her ear and dangled in front of her. Yao saw that her lower lip was trembling.

He scooted closer to her in the booth and gently swept her hair out from her face. One lock kept escaping from over her ear, but Yao persisted, ensuring it properly tucked.

“Hey now, things will look up, hm?”

She blinked blearily back at him.

“You’re a real catch,” he said, and his heart throbbed. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Her eyes shut again and then Yao felt a pressure at his side as she leaned against him. He waited for a moment, feeling his fear melt away under the duress of the tequila in his system. Then he put his arm around her, trying to ignore the vicious swell of pleasure in his chest.

There was a moment that was painfully ordinary, where the waiter refreshed their empty shot glasses. 

Neither of them so much as looked at the drinks.

She surprised him by looping an arm around his waist and hugging him close. Her other hand curled loosely against his chest, like an open bear trap. How unnecessary that was; he’d have gone willingly into her arms, no traps needed.

He could feel the steady warmth of her pressed against him and in his head, thoughts shot off in rapid-fire to the racing beat of his pulse; _She’s just a friend. Just a friend. Just a friend._

He clung to this like a mantra, but God, she smelled so good – faintly of her shampoo, which he’d come to know as familiarly as his own scent. 

She was so warm; like a space heater, though perhaps his nerves and alcohol intake couldn’t be trusted not to meddle with this either. 

Her fingers clutched at the material of his shirt, cinching it tightly in her grip. The pull of this felt like it came from the weight in his chest. He tried to stop himself from thinking it but his thoughts were well lubricated in tequila and slipped through his head before he could get ahold of them; _fuck, what if she wants me after all?_

He considered deeply that it wasn’t him that she wanted, so much as the companionship and adoration he could offer to soothe her broken heart. 

The potential truth of this didn’t bother him as much as it should have.

Both of them were radiating heat and in their proximity, their combined warmth was like a fever they were swapping between each other to simmer in. 

Yao’s head was starting to fog a little but his heart had never felt more certain. 

He tucked her head under his chin and held her closer like it was the most natural thing in the world. To others in the club, they must’ve looked like lovers sharing a tender moment, standing out like an island among happy drunks and the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor.

A good man would’ve called it a night – neither of them could get much drunker without it getting gross and there was nothing their drunkenness could get him that would survive until morning anyway.

Moreover, Yao could feel a question budding in his head, creeping up his throat and to the tip of his tongue. He knew it was a mistake but it was like a train going full speed – it couldn't stop even if someone jumped out onto the tracks, even if that someone was him.

He could feel himself about to ask her to come closer. Worse yet, this was the best-case scenario because if _she_ asked _him_ to come closer, he’d go running without a second thought.

He was on the brink of asking his question; about to sentence himself to a little heartbreak of his own but before he could, she looked up at him, blinking with those watery eyes that shone like the lights on passing ships reflected off the water.

Yao had exactly enough time to feel his heart throb before she turned her face up and pressed her lips to his softly.

He groaned, the shock of the kiss reverberating through him like it might dismantle him from the inside out. He could feel himself start to harden.

Fuck! He was too late – he could feel himself slipping away already. Her lips wore him out like an old sweater, breaking him in to fit her. God, he had no idea how long he’d been waiting for the opportunity until it was here.

His hands caught gently at the sides of her face as he kissed her back, lips moving so she knew he was happy to be here, kissing her. His thumb stroked against the flat of her cheekbone and he dared to let his fingers curl and hold her closer as their lips stacked against each other; they were a perfect fit.

She surprised him once more by throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Like this, his body was practically flush against hers. She tossed one of her legs over his lap and as simple as that, she was practically seated in it.

Yao felt heat suffuse his face; he wasn’t used to doing this sort of thing in public, even though he knew the dark of the club and throbbing beat disguised them as another background romance to a room full of potential voyeurs.

He could feel her soft breasts pressed against his chest. His cock throbbed.

Yao wanted to hold her tighter, so tight that she melted into him and he could take her pain as her own. Something stopped him – _someone_ did. Even if she didn’t know it or want to believe it, she still belonged to someone else in the ways Yao yearned to belong to her.

He peeked at her through their kiss, noticing how her eyes shut, the space between indenting slightly. 

Was she thinking of him? Or was she pretending Yao was someone else? He could taste the tequila on her, so maybe that was why her mouth burned against him.

This seemed to snap him back to reality and though it almost killed him, he found it upon himself to push her away gently but firmly. Her eyes fluttered open and then she was blinking at him, tears still freeze-dried and caught at her lashes.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Her voice was tinged with panic.

Yao swallowed and thought this must’ve absolutely been the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“We should…slow down."

Her face crumpled and he could feel the pull at his shirt where her fingers tensed.

“Please, no.” More wetness welled in her eyes. “I can’t be alone right now, _please_.”

Panic fluttered in his own chest.

“You’re not,” he said hastily. “You don’t have to be. You _never_ will.”

It was imperative to him that she knew that much. 

“I won’t leave, I just don’t think we should…do that.”

She looked away from him, her expression dazed and shocked. Yao was about to try and rub warmth into her back to try and spur movement but then she was shifting away from him and retracting her legs from over his lap. 

Unbeknownst to them, the waiter had brought them more shots during their little face-sucking episode; now they both had two on deck. She blinked, her makeup starting to run again, and took one of her shots.

She brought her fingers against her eyes to rub the tears away but no sooner had her hands left, more had already started to streak down her cheeks. 

She took a shaky breath.

Yao was terribly aware of the distance between them now; a foot felt like a mile. Yao felt like he was looking over at her from across a great canyon like he had to squint his eyes to make sure it was really her he’d been kissing.

Her skin looked torched by her inebriation and even with her newfound space, she was radiating heat. Her eyes were wet and red for a completely new reason now. Yao felt a sharp pang in his chest.

He took her face between his hands again, thumbs stroking her cheeks to catch the tears she missed.

“Aiyah,” he murmured. “You silly, emotional girl. It’s not because of you, it’s because of _me_. You’re grieving and drunk and…I can’t _do_ everything that I want to do. I won’t.” He swallowed. “I can’t take advantage of you.”

At this, some of her old self seemed to pierce through her muddled, drunken sadness – or at least something that resembled her old self.

“Oh, but you’re not! You won’t!” 

Her hands came up to cradle his face, fingers tucking a loose tendril of hair behind his ear and then doing it again even though she didn’t need to. “I want to, Yao, really, I do. I want _you_.”

The more she insisted, the less Yao was convinced.

He wasn’t as naïve as his heart wished him to be; he knew this was probably just the booze and heartbreak talking but God, he couldn’t ignore the way her voice called to him – in every note, word, and space in-between.

Inside him, this feeling battled with the persistent knowledge that he’d never make her cry as her ex had. These conflicting feelings writhed inside him like snakes. He felt a little sick and he thought a little doubtfully, that it might be the tequila too.

Whatever caused it though, these thoughts weren’t to be brushed aside. They took root in him with a stubbornness that seemed almost malicious; he knew with no uncertainty that he wasn’t capable of making her feel like anything less than the treasure she was.

While Yao mulled this over, she seemed to take his quiet as acceptance and she wasn’t all that wrong. She pulled him in for another kiss and this time, their teeth knocked together a little clumsily, her fingers threading through his hair. The attempt to kiss him was only broken up by a watery giggle on her part before she tried again, this time, successfully.

The gentle tug of it only made him feel more wanted and he couldn’t help but kiss her back. 

The last thing he thought was ‘ _fuck it_ ’ as his arms wrapped around her and he pulled her against him once more.

He felt like a horny teenager again – and he _liked_ it.

His hands drifted down her back, feeling how her body heat rolled off of her in waves. It was a wonder it didn’t burn her clothes right off her body. His fingers landed at her lower back, dangerously close to the swell of her ass. 

He hesitated, kissing her with caution, then his heart lunged and he was swan-diving into his desires. In one smooth motion, he’d brought her onto his lap.

She let out a breathy little gasp that made her thighs twitch. She shifted on top of him and Yao’s reflexes were numbed enough that he didn’t even think to peek an eye open and watch as she moved to straddle him. This is why he was taken aback when he felt the warm plushness of her squeeze around him, her soft weight pressing against his erection.

He gasped and she jerked her hips against him. It was a good thing the inside of the club was dark.

His cock throbbed against the heat of her, which was grinding up against him in slow, circular motions, the regularity of which surprised him – it was like someone stirring creamer into their coffee.

Yao thought something else might get creamed then and there if she kept going the way she was.

His hands and lips moved almost of his own accord, pulling her closer and searching for more, though a small voice at the back of his head cautioned him. 

Fuck, what was he doing?

His mind’s response to this was to replay the last thing she’d said to him; that she _wanted_ him. He could wage war on his own desires, to be certain, but he was powerless to say no to her.

Still, despite how his mind seemed to be made up in his attraction to her, he couldn’t bring himself to touch her fully yet. Instead, he kept kissing her, lips soft and pressed to hers like he was determined to get her to confess her own desire in return. His hands skimmed up along her sides, 

sometimes ticklish, but mostly soothing little circles into her. His thumbs grazed over her ribcage and she shuddered beneath his touch.

While, of course, he wanted her, he craved her more than just what his cock could express. His hands smoothed over the plane of her back as he held her close, his hold gentle enough for it to look like he was cuddling – something that looked so out of place at the club, it might as well have been against the rules of the establishment. 

Yao had a moment to enjoy this; then she shifted on his lap, grinding against him, her skirt riding up to her hips.

He made a strangled sound, his hands stalling over her but she only seemed to cinch her legs tighter around him, forcing Yao to feel her heat more intensely. 

She grabbed his hands, sensing how they tripped over his rampant want and guided them to her breasts. The material of her shirt felt thin at his palms. He kept deathly still like he was afraid to grab her even though she’d taken him there, where he’d only visited before in his most private of fantasies.

The kiss broke but their proximity and the near-trance it had them in, did not. Foreheads still touching, he peered at her, asking for permission. She never met his gaze though – she didn’t want to. She was way past the point of going back and playing chaste. Instead, she buried her face into Yao’s shoulder and squeezed her hands around his, coaxing him into a fondling touch around her.

The padding of her bra blocked him from feeling the soft swells of her breasts but Yao felt himself get choked anyway. How easy would it have been to tunnel beneath the material of her clothes to feel her in earnest?

He felt her warm breath against his neck.

“Should we…get out of here?”

Yao wasn’t certain. Some part of him at the back of his head knew he should say no, but he no longer knew why and could no longer find it upon himself to want to try and understand.

The words were at the top of his tongue; ‘ _no, we shouldn’t_ ,’ like a line from a script he wasn't committed to reciting.

“I, ah-“

The waiter passed by their table, checking the state of their glasses which were surprisingly still untouched from the last round he’d brought. An unspoken realization fell, breaking the delirious, oblivious spell of their drunkenness; neither of them would be going anywhere soon. They separated with the distinguished shame that usually waited until the morning after to rear its head.

She took her shot and Yao followed with both of his. They sent sheepish looks towards the waiter as he came to collect their empty glasses, their replacements ignored. The waiter left and they said nothing.

The waitstaff were duty-bound to keep their mouths shut regardless of what they thought upon finding she and Yao draped across one another. The other patrons didn’t seem to think any more of them pawing at each other than they did of the wallpaper. Yao was hyperaware of her body beneath her clothes; the shape and softness of her that before that night, he had to imagine. 

He felt like he could recall it now with the detail a lock might be able to testify to the shape of its key. He sat with this burning realization, holding it with a reverence like hot coals in his chest. He felt like they were alone, though the club was packed tonight. There was only each other within the walls of people and lives they weren’t privy to.

Yao hazarded a look her way and when she turned to catch him, his eyes dropped to his lap. He felt like he was sixteen. His erection was painfully obvious to him.

Yao reached for a shot and threw it back, more so out of nervousness rather than an actual desire to drink it. It kept his hands and lips busy for a whole two seconds.

When he was finished, she scootched closer to him, the side of her thigh almost touching his, and his heart leaped.

From right beside her, he could see the top of her blouse and how the buttons slackened, allowing a sliver of skin to peek out at him. It was like a secret she was sending him; he studied it, committing it to memory before tearing his eyes away.

Meanwhile, she was trying to remember the courage she had when she first tried to maneuver onto him, desperate to feel him again. He noticed her eyes drop to his lap and immediately he was self-conscious of the bulge there.

Two figures arose in the dark black-red, mustiness inside the club, passing their table to take the booth just behind them. Yao watched them like a kid at the aquarium with his nose and cheeks pressed to the glass. He’d almost forgotten about the other people here, as many of them as there were.

She seemed startled to see them too; her eyes wide as they lifted from his erection. 

She watched the other couple wistfully; the man slung his arm around the woman and pulled her to him, burying his nose into the crown of her head affectionately. Yao felt guilty like he was holding onto a murder weapon at the scene of the crime. 

He couldn’t possibly let the night slip away from him knowing what she wanted and that he could give it to her.

Forget an arm and a night, he wanted to give her _everything_ ; his whole body and his whole life.

An arm could be a beginning though. 

When the waiter came to replenish their drinks again, Yao asked for water instead.

Then, he shifted closer to her, leaping into the breach, and slung his arm around her. Heat hit him immediately like they’d never really parted; his skin recognized the fever of hers at once.

She looked up at him as soon as she felt the weight of him on her, studying him more closely than he’d thought her capable of in her current state. 

Truly, she could not take another rejection tonight.

He knew that and wanted to put her at ease, to show her he wasn’t like her ex, or really, like any other man at all. She had his loyalty and heart.

If she wanted it, she could have his body too. He burned at the thought.

When he swallowed, his throat caught like something was stuck in it.

“Can we finish our drinks before we go?”

She looked surprised for a moment but he’d never answered her original question. 

“It's not a ‘no’,” he said after a moment. “I mean about before…what you asked. It's just a…’not yet.’ And it certainly isn’t because I don’t _want_ to.”

She didn’t look like she believed him. Yao wished desperately that he could’ve reached inside of her to turn the little gears in her head and make her understand. He couldn’t though and besides, talk was cheap. If he was going to reassure her of his wants and her role in them, he’d have to be a little more forward.

God. He felt his stomach twist inside of him at the anticipation of touching her again.

Yao put his hand on her knee and looked at her. If she recoiled at all, he’d pull away, apologize, and send her home in a cab before potentially fleeing the country under a new identity.

His fingers rested at her skin; she radiated heat and he could feel the hard contours of bone beneath his fingers. 

He noticed she made a careful effort not to look at him as he did this, turning to their drinks and sipping hers, barely making a dent in her ice water. The level of her own inebriation was starting to register in her mind. 

Yao’s stomach flipped; it was clear that whatever insinuations were made throughout the evening were rapidly turning real – if there was caution, then there also must’ve been some real risk. Tequila was a strange fairy godmother, but he’d take it.

Beneath the table meanwhile, her legs spread a bit wider.

Yao noticed this immediately and caressed his fingers upwards along her inner thigh, feeling carefully at how soft she was there. A shuddery little gasp left her and he felt her twitch. Her face remained more or less, schooled.

She pressed herself more tightly against him so that now they were sitting hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder – a little odd-looking, but not so unbelievable, and certainly not indecent.

Yao let the warmth of her body bake him into a sultry lull.

Above the table, their faces were impassive. Perhaps a little too blank for two people who were supposed to be out on the town.

“You’re so soft.”

Yao said this in a normal speaking voice, which was almost drowned out by the deep thud of the bass.

She blushed at this and her eyes dropped from her drink to her lap – to his _hand_ – hiding there.

“I always thought that you must be soft,” he admitted, this time in a lower voice.

Her heart leaped at this. The thought of him thinking of her so intimately made the heat between her legs flare.

Yao pushed his hand further between her thighs, still moving slowly, in case she changed her mind. She spread her legs wider and resisted the urge to grind her crotch against his fingers. 

He was so close to the wet fabric of her panties that she could feel his body heat radiate past the meager defense.

“You’ve thought about touching me?”

She asked this without daring to look at him, though Yao could tell with how her head was angled towards him, that she was aching to hear his answer.

His response automatically caught at his tongue. He wasn’t used to such vulnerable admissions but her pride had taken a blow today, as had her heart and both of these things were more important than his own pride.

“I’m dreamed of it,” he said with weighted certainty. “You’re softer than what my mind did justice though. Prettier too.”

At this, she ducked her head, the haste of which told Yao that the movement had been automatic.

Anger welled in him, fresh and surprisingly potent amid his drunkenness. 

It was clear that she wasn’t used to getting compliments.

His hand moved further up her skirt to stroke lately along the crotch of her panties and she shivered into him, a tight gasp leaving her lips. He could feel the stray wiry hair poking out from where her thigh met her cunt.

Her eyes snapped to his. He could feel her tense.

“Hang on a little longer,” Yao murmured. “I’m almost done with my drink.”

This was a lie though neither of them seemed to care. The important part was true - that she only had to wait a little while longer.

He stroked his fingers lately over the seam of her panties, feeling the delicate divot of her sex underneath. He took a sip of his drink, the small smile he donned shifting the straw between his lips. Her hips twitched unwittingly and the smile widened. Yao rubbed his fingers more insistently along the length of her and felt her get even wetter.

“Would you like something to tide you over until then?”

Her eyes snapped to his; he already knew the answer to his question. 

Yao slipped his fingers into the crotch of her panties and pressed insistently at her folds. She stiffened and a startled moan dropped from her lips. 

Her face heated right after; Yao thought she looked rather cute when she was embarrassed.

He traced his finger along the seam of her wet cunt, back and forth, focusing on the spot that made her shoulders jump and thighs clench.

When he looked up at her face again, he could tell that her jaw was set, like she struggled to keep her expression schooled.

Yao withdrew his fingers from her sex, feeling a sticky strand of her slick connect them for a moment before falling away. Her expression looked pained and a smile jumped at his lips. 

She was so cute when she was being teased. 

Yao let his fingers comb luxuriously through the tuft of curls between her legs and felt her thighs clench around him – this time spurred by something other than desire.

She was different here than she was in his fantasies. For example, the 'her' in his head was usually smooth down here. 

Yao delighted in the hair he found now. It made her so much more real to have proven him wrong. 

There was striking honesty in feeling her body in the flesh and it was echoed by the little, nervous movements in her legs. She was confessing things to him, all he had to do was listen.

More than anything, Yao wanted to peek his head down under her skirt and see for himself, bare her to him – but he’d been patient so far and so, he decided he could be just a bit more patient.

“Relax,” Yao murmured, using a finger to trace the swollen, wet crest of her sex.

When her stricken expression never left and her hips lifted to grind her cunt more substantially against his fingers, a little thrill went through Yao. 

His erection strained against his trousers, almost painfully so. With not just any woman but the one who’d taken up a significant share of his thoughts for the past four years, wanting and wet at his fingertips, he couldn’t help but indulge a little though he knew today was not a day to tease her.

“Relax,” he ordered more firmly. “Or I’ll leave you with nothing until we leave.”

It was the most firm he’d been with her all night and at this, she at least relaxed enough for her lower lip to jut in a little pout. 

That paired with her mussed hair and the redness still at her nose was all so endearing, he felt his chest ache.

Yao stroked his fingers more insistently along her folds, making sure to move deep and slow in order to maximize the drag of him against her. 

Her eyes fluttered shut, her fingers pinched into the seat.

When he caught the sensitive little bud nestled along the seam of her cunt, her body gave a jolt and for a moment, he thought her nails punctured the leather of the seat.

The warmth of her felt like it was almost pulsating, each catch of her breath making it seem as if she were vibrating from his touch. The silkiness of her at his fingertips clung to him, carrying her heat, and as Yao took great pleasure in imagining, her scent. He occasionally paused his ministrations at her to rub his fingers together, reveling in the stickiness she yielded in response to his touch.

Fuck, why couldn’t they have decided to drink at home tonight, where he could’ve taken her then and there? He imagined her nipples tight and hard, her cunt throbbing for him. If it weren’t for the deep thud of the bass pounding in his ears, he thought for sure he might hear the wet drag of his fingers against her.

Yao leaned in so that his lips were close to her ear.

“You’re soaked,” he teased. “Were you sitting beside me like that the whole time?”

Her lips twitched but she didn’t answer.

Yao retraced his fingers back to find her clit again and thumbed it with a focused little circle of the digit.

“Hm?” 

An unwitting moan fell from her lips. When her eyes darted to meet his and then away again, his stomach flipped excitedly, his cock twitching. 

“Mm, _maybe_.”

The soft lilt she gave to the word made Yao suspect that she had intended it more playfully, though the day and his touch had left her a bit too shaken to execute it well.

Nevertheless, the non-answer had his cock aching for the softness of her. 

Damn it – this was escalating faster than he intended. At this rate, he’d be begging her to take _him_ home.

Still, much as the prospects for the rest of the night brought butterflies to his stomach, there was something irresistible about the idea of touching her in such a public place. Of winding her up where he couldn’t see all of her.

Much as he had his eyes on the prize, Yao didn’t necessarily want to rush through this either. This, like every time he’d spent with her, was special. In this booth, he’d touched her for the first time. At this table, the air had shifted between them and suddenly all the secrets they’d kept locked in their chests were naked, like blood traces under a blacklight.

She was completely still, listening with her body as his fingers probed her, searching for more of her. She shifted her hips, pushing his fingers closer to her wet entrance.

Yao caught her meaning well enough; shifting his hand so that his thumb lingered at her clit, moving in little circles that had her twitching against him, he paused with his index finger at her hole. When he looked at her, he could see that her chest was rising and falling, her eyes on him expectantly.

He went slow at first, unsure of the angle and tightness of the fit but his worries ended up being in vain. Though snug, she was wet enough that his index finger slipped in without a hitch. Her eyes fluttered shut as she focused on the drag of him inside of her.

In the next booth, the couple sitting there was chatting avidly. Yao wondered if they were eavesdropping; they almost looked _too_ engrossed in their conversation. This was a club at the underbelly of a bad day, not afternoon tea.

Yao wondered what others might have seen when they saw him and her together. 

Based on their proximity, they could’ve looked like a couple themselves, perhaps on the verge of getting back together or splitting up, from how quiet they looked and the way his body bowed against hers.

An ache panged in his chest. He was probably the only one without an ounce of melancholy in this situation.

He withdrew his index finger and on the next pump in, he added his middle finger without saying a word. She took this added thickness in stride; it was a tighter fit, but still a fit, no less. 

He thrust his fingers in slowly, reveling in the friction. Her slick felt like it was cementing his fingers together, thick and slippery. His imagination, again, filled in the blanks that were lost to the ambiance of the club. 

He imagined her soft cunt and what his fingers looked like disappearing into her. He could practically _hear_ the wet sounds he pulled from her.

His cock throbbed.

He continued to finger her, picking up at a moderate pace. Her chest dropped dramatically with each breath; her eyes glassy from beneath her pinched brow.

One of her hands moved to his thigh instinctively, like she was clutching onto him in an attempt to keep herself grounded through the torrential pleasure.

The meat of his thigh stung as her nails bit into his skin, not completely blocked by the protection of his trousers. The urge to throw her legs open and fuck her then and there heightened. 

Yao bit the inside of his cheek – he had to behave for the both of them right now. He would have the opportunity to ravish her later.

Yao noticed her other hand, which was clamped down so tightly on the edge of the booth’s cushion, that it threatened to tear through the leather entirely.

He could feel the strength of her muscles as she hugged around his fingers. 

With each time he drew out of her, he could feel the silent strength of her pulling him back in. 

That’s the way it always worked with them – Yao trying to keep her at an arm’s length to soothe his own ragged heart and her, unknowingly, automatically pulling him back in.

As he pumped his fingers into her he imagined her naked, maybe even bound.

In his darkest fantasies, she was almost suspended in her bonds, a sweat misting at her skin, fatigue enticing her body into resting in her kinky cradle as the rope bit further into the give of her curves, leaving raw indentations in her skin that Yao could soothe with his lips and tongue.

Now, with his fingers buried in her, he was imagining the way she might strain against the ties and the way the ties in return would press further against the seam of her cunt, providing enough friction to tantalize, but not enough to fulfill. He thought of her slickness, beading at the fibers of the rope, seeping out from around the thickness to drip on his floor.

Without even realizing it, his ministrations had roughened; his knuckles crashed against her as the pace of his thrusts increased. She moaned again and it disappeared into the sound of the club. 

The woman sitting in the booth behind her turned to look at them before hastily looking away.

Yao carefully added a third finger. 

When it entered her, her grip on him tightened deliciously.

“ _Ah_!- That’s good.”

Her breath hitched.

“You take them so well.”

Their eyes met; his blood felt like it caught fire.

Yao had to look away if only to keep his concentration. His gaze shifted instead out to the dance floor, where the huddled mass of bodies was just another cluster of black silhouettes in the dimly lit club. At the fringe of the crowd, he managed to make eye contact with someone by accident – another young woman who looked like she was alone, or at least momentarily forgotten by her group. 

Her hair was dark, with loose waves that curled inward at about her chin. 

Her eyes were dark too. She was pretty, he realized; the sort he might’ve gone after if the woman he’d pined for, for so many years wasn’t currently at the tips of his fingers.

He smiled politely at her none the less. She held his gaze long enough to look flustered at the realization that something unspoken was passing between them before she looked away.

Turning his attention back to the woman he was buried in, Yao saw that her lips fell open, her face drawing into an unmistakable expression even if no one could hear her cry out. The thought of one of the many other patrons noticing had Yao’s stomach flipping in anticipation. 

Past the shock of the lewdness in her expression, she looked beautiful; her skin flushed and soft, her expression lively, her lips like ripe berries he wanted to run his tongue against. Her body looked as if it were coming into its own; she was a work of art, a flower blooming for the only time in a year. Yao could almost hardly believe he was around to see it.

“Do you feel good?” 

It didn’t matter that he already knew the answer – he was aching to hear her say it for herself.

“Feels great - but are you almost done with that 'drink'?”

He could hear the tension in her voice and he was unable to hide how much he relished it.

“Almost,” he promised.

He curled his fingers a bit more, changing their angle and she gasped. 

Her body curled inward, one leg climbing his so that she was half-clinging to him. Instinctively, Yao’s other arm hugged around her shoulders, holding her to him, accepting the reliance of her frame against his own.

Her fingers cinched into his shirt, pulling the material taut over where his heart was. Her own chest rose and fell sharply under the duress of her heaving breaths.

At three fingers, she felt full – and still, Yao’s mind was filled with images of him filling her with something else.

“Please,” she begged as her thighs tensed, quivering under the strain around his wrist. “Take me somewhere…quieter?”

The words ' _take me_ ' echoed in his head, setting his blood on fire.

When Yao looked into her eyes, he could see that she meant somewhere more private, perhaps somewhere with a bed. His place?

She’d been there plenty of times before, of course, but never to sleep over. And never naked.

He could picture it now; her bare and sprawled across his bed. Her swathed in his sheets in the morning, her hair mussed. Breakfast with stolen glances and nervous laughter about the events of the night before and the shifting boundaries of their relationship.

Yao suddenly felt like an idiot for not taking her up on her first offer to go somewhere ‘quieter’. He was so hard it was uncomfortable to sit, especially with her wet heat around his fingers.

He tore his fingers from her, the absence of his warmth so abrasive to her pounding arousal that she couldn’t help the pitchy whine that left her throat.

“It’s time to go.” 

Her eyes widened at his declaration and Yao signaled for the check.

He had felt like he’d had so much control when he did this like there was some great light at the end of the tunnel. He was still painfully hard and hyperaware of how soft, warm, and wet she was. It was as if he were still inside of her. He felt like he was close enough to reach out and wrap his hands around the front gates to paradise.

But then it was minutes before a waiter came by to give them their bill. 

It was another couple of minutes before he came back to collect the bill with Yao’s card. 

It was a busy night at the club – a Saturday night. A few more minutes passed and still, the waiter hadn’t returned.

Yao could feel her squirm from beside him. He could feel how taut her body was, vigilant with the need to be touched. 

God, he wanted to put his hands on her.

He weighed his options – did he possibly have the time to finish her off real quick, before going back to his place to finish her again? The voice of reason at the back of his head told him to consider the chances of the waiter coming around to interrupt them but it didn’t quite feel like an argument for the ‘con’ side of the balance.

Yao took a quick look around; the waiter was still nowhere in sight.

He had half a mind to just leave and call his bank the next day so that they could send him a new card. Before he could though, she turned to him, shifting away from him in a way that brought panic fluttering quickly inside of him. He felt it before he could identify what it was – a side effect of the feelings he’d harbored for so long and the turn the night had taken.

“I’ll be right back. I have to use the bathroom.”

This caught him off guard. A part of him wondered how she could feel anything else when anticipation and desire were mixing into something that made his veins feel like they were laced with cyanide.

“Okay,” he said.

What else could he have done? He was still waiting for his damned card anyway.

As luck would have it, the check came as soon as her body disappeared into the writhing mass of people on the dancefloor, where she could cut across to the bathrooms tucked in the back corner of the establishment.

Yao coolly slid his card back into his wallet and waited.

The bass was so heavy he felt it in his chest like an anvil. Even though he hadn’t been actively listening, he thought that they’d played this song already tonight. How long had they been there?

It was strange, the timelessness of the dark club and the warm spot between her legs, stretching seconds into years while simultaneously blurring the night away in one fell swoop. Modern life’s strange, seedy magician.

Minutes passed and she still hadn’t returned.

Yao tried not to let his nerves get the best of him. Did she leave? He stopped the train of thought just short of adding a soft ‘ _him_ ’ at the end of the question. They had come separately – he couldn’t begrudge her if she’d wanted to call it a night. 

Had she had enough of him and was too polite to tell him to his face? 

This thought gave away to another, worse one – did she merely come to her senses?

Had she woken up from the sad spell of her break up and the tequila only to realize that he wasn’t a knight on a white horse, but just Yao? Her Yao? The one who sent her home with his homemade food and called every week to bitch about their respective weeks? The one who she called when her life went tits up? The one who always _showed_ up? 

It was hard to reconcile this Yao with the man who’d had his hand up her skirt not fifteen minutes ago.

The buzz of his phone in his pocket pulled him from his thoughts; when he slid the device out and saw her name light up the screen, his heart dropped into his stomach.

He opened the message, steeling himself for the ‘ _i’m sorry but this is too much too fast_ ’ and the ‘ _i hope we can still stay friends :)_ ’

What he wasn’t prepared for was the vicious throb of his erection, the tension in his body like a closed fist at the image spread across his screen. 

If he stood up, he’d have undoubtedly outed his arousal to the world.

Speaking of which – he looked around, paranoid that the people in the nearby booths could see what he was looking at on his phone – and that just wouldn’t do. A little thrill went through him at the thought that crossed his mind; _For my eyes only_.

He cupped one hand around the edge of his screen, trying to be discrete. 

Fuck, there was no way he could just wait for her to come back to him now – if that’s even what was on her mind, anyway.

Yao studied the photo carefully.

From the black and red backdrop, it was clear that she was still in the club, though while that put to rest his fears of her leaving, it ended up being the last thing he cared about as far as the rest of the picture was concerned.

He didn’t know how she did it but from what he could tell, even crammed in a tiny, bathroom stall, she’d managed an upskirt photo. The crotch of her panties (which he could now tell was a lacy, red thong!) had been pulled aside to give him a generous view of her cunt. 

Her fingers reached down to spread the lips, showcasing the wetness that gleamed along the length of it, beads of her slick catching at the wiry curls between her legs.

He imagined her, swollen, pounding for him. 

From above the waist, he could see that her shirt had been opened and bra, pulled up, to bare her breasts, the nipples pebbled and stiff, the voluptuousness of her only emphasized by how her body seemed to fight against the constraint of the fabric.

Yao felt his mouth go dry.

His stomach flipped as he saw three dots appear at the bottom of his screen, beneath the photo. After a moment, they were replaced with another message – this time just a text; _i cant wait any longer_.

Yao leaped to his feet, almost forgetting his phone in the process, as he began to push into the crowd, towards the back where the bathrooms were.


End file.
